“Absolutely,” Krista hurried forward.
Only then did Connor step away from the bed and turn slightly away. He pulled out his phone again and called the sheriff.
Ten minutes later Austin was back and quietly making notes at the small desk under the bank of windows. Connor sat in the chair nearest the bed, aware of Krista on the other side shooting him curious glances now and then.
“I wasn’t aware you knew her,” she finally said.
He didn’t answer. He just watched Savannah, lying too still. That fire that had caught his eye that first time he’d seen her was lacking. That spark and strength. And sweetness. He so got off on that combination. And he wanted all of it back in her eyes—that sparkling intelligence and challenge.
“Sheriff’s waiting, Connor.” Austin interrupted his thoughts.
He stood. But hesitated.
“Don’t worry,” Krista spoke. “I’ve got her.”
He met the girl’s eyes. Saw she meant it. Realized for the first time that she was upset too. Savannah was more than her workmate? She was her friend.
“Thanks,” he muttered, his voice croaking out on him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Chapter Five
Worst. Headache. Ever.
Savannah’s eyes wouldn’t open. Good. She wanted to go back to sleep anyway. Anything to escape the totally crappy feeling swirling in her stomach and the ringing-and-thumping combo in her head.
What on earth had she done last night?
Her eyelids popped open. She stared at the wall. It was the palest blue, which meant it definitely wasn’t the wall in her bedroom in her undersized apartment. She blinked a couple of times, taking in the beautifully framed series of photographs, hanging in a perfect line along the wall. Definitely not her place. This was… somewhere else altogether.
Where?
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She winced, then froze. Because her pulse wasn’t the only rhythm ricocheting around her head. There was the sound of breathing too. Not her quickening breathing, but some one else’s deep, regular breathing.
Holy shit. She wasn’t alone in this big bed?
What the hell had she done last night? And with whom?
But thinking hurt and all she could come up with was a confusing jumble of scenes. She remembered the bar being busy, noisy. Krista and Luca being as kissy as always. The usual crowd clamoring for more cocktails. The jerks irritatingly obnoxious… All the images swirled in her head. Damn she felt seasick. But then they merged into the one picture.
Passionate blue eyes. Ultra short hair. Strong, strong arms. She remembered a sensation of weightlessness.
No. He couldn’t have been there, right? And if he had, if by some weird happening she’d come home with him… With one hand she carefully peeked under the covering down at herself—it seemed she was still wearing her shirt and black skirt from the bar. Yeah, she’d thought so. And if she had come home with him, wouldn’t she be naked? Unless they’d done it clothed again? How could she not remember?
Very slowly she turned her head, hoping not to wake him, hoping not to hurt her head more, hoping she’d at least recognize the person she was lying next to. That it was him.
But she wasn’t lying next to anyone. The other occupant in the room was curled up in a gorgeously comfortable looking armchair. And Savannah totally recognized that sprawl of dark blond hair.
“Krista?” she screeched, her voice total sandpaper.
“You’re awake.” Krista jerked upright. “Wow. Thank God. Great. You’re okay?”
“Uh… I think so…” She read the concern in Krista’s eyes. “Am I?” She licked her hideously dry lips. “Should I be? What happened?”
Krista unfolded herself from the chair. Savannah watched her wince as she straightened up. Why was her colleague clad top to toe in such obviously straight-from-the-packaging Summerhill sportswear?
“I’ve been with you all night and you’ve been tucked up here the whole time.” Krista came forward, speaking super-quick, as if she’d been saving up the small speech for hours. “You’re safe. You’re totally safe.”
Safe? Why wouldn’t she be safe? And where was here?
“Well that’s good. I guess.” Savannah muttered, wishing Krista would clarify things a little more.
Why couldn’t she remember anything? What the hell had been going on? She pushed herself up, wincing at an unexpected pain in her hand. She glanced at it and paused—why did she have a needle inserted into the back of her hand and taped on?
Krista smiled and audibly sighed in relief. “Yep, you’re okay. But man, I’ve never seen the Icicle looking so emotional.” She moved to pour a couple of glasses of water from the pitcher on a tray beside the bed. “Frankly, he looked hot.” She fanned herself with her free hand.
Savannah just stared at her. “The ‘Icicle’?”
“Connor.” Krista added, like it was obvious. Her smile turned sly. “You should have seen the way he stood over you.” She fanned her cheek again and giggled.
Savannah’s bamboozled brain finally started putting the pieces together.
The Icicle. Connor. Ultra short hair. Angry blue eyes.
No. No freaking way.
Disbelief knifed through her nausea.
Krista fell silent and though she kept a smile on her face, a different kind of concern crept into her eyes. Caution. “Don’t worry,” she said quickly, setting the glass down and rubbing her palms down her trendy new après-ski pants. “Just tell him everything you remember. It’ll be okay. He’ll fix it.” She bit her lip for a second. “Connor takes care of everyone. It’s like, what he does.”
What, so that ‘emotion’ she’d mentioned a second ago was nothing all of a sudden?
“What he ‘does’?” Savannah echoed, trying to ignore the rising tide of horror within her.
“Mmm hmm,” Krista nodded brightly. “You know, it’s just his thing. He’s the big man ‘round here… makes sure everyone is all okay…”
The big man—as in the King of the Mountain?
A fragment surfaced, a hazy image… a few words.
I’m so stupid.
She sure as fuck was.
“I need to get out of here.” Savannah pushed back the light coverings. “Where are my boo—”
“No, just wait. You have to wait.”
No she didn’t. She had to get out of here.
But the door opened, right on queue.
He walked in. Savannah froze in place and just stared at him. No way could this be Connor Hughes.
He met her gaze square on. Hers locked. Yeah, there was no noticing anything else the minute he appeared.
He didn’t so much as glance at Krista, he just walked forward right to the side of her bed. Peripherally she took in the worn, faded blue jeans. The loose white tee that exposed tanned, muscled forearms. And he had freaking bare feet. Didn’t that just cement how obviously at ease he was in this environment. In this freaking room. Now why was that? It better not be his room.
Savannah’s rage trebled.
“You’re awake.”
How observant of him.
“Am I? I’m hoping this is a nightmare,” she answered sourly.
“Sav, it could have been a far worse nightmare.” Krista said softly.
Connor turned. “Thanks so much Krista, you’re probably keen to get home and get some decent sleep. I think it’s pretty clear Savannah’s back to her bristly self and able to handle things on her own.”
Krista’s eyes widened but she nodded. “Sure.” But then she leaned past him to look into Savannah’s face with a bright smile. “You need anything, you text me.” She straightened. “I mean anything. I can give you a lift—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Connor interrupted.
“Right,” Krista stepped back. “I’ve already told Luca there’s no way you’ll be working tonight.”
Savannah was still recovering from the ‘bristly-self’ comment but now she had to clamp her mouth shut with sheer willpower while trying to stretch her lips into something of a ‘thank you’ smile.
Of course she’d be working tonight. She had no freaking choice.
“Thanks Krista,” Connor took it upon himself to do the talking for her. “Can you tell Austin and Mac to come in.”
He waited ’til Krista had made it to the door before turning and looking back down at Savannah.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
She couldn’t answer.
“Sugar?”
Oh that was too unfair. And he was watching her so damn intensely—like she’d turned into the Rubik’s cube conundrum of the other night again.
“I’ve had better starts to the day,” she said warily.
She’d slept with him. The guy she’d wanted to hunt out and make pay somehow. How was that possible?
“It’s not going to get much better for a few more minutes I’m afraid,” he said. “There are a couple of people who’d like to talk to you.” He turned, waved in the two men now lingering just inside the doorway.
“This is Austin,” he gestured to the man in the white Summerhill tee. “Resident doctor. And this is Mac, our local Sheriff.”
“I need to talk to you, if you’re feeling up to it, Ms Nash,” the officer stepped forward.